The Bitter End
by Mizz Moneypenny
Summary: First sequel to 'Lust & Lunacy'. Roxy and Randy both refelect on the past year, but will tragedy commence? No longer song fictions. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

I do not own any of the characters stated in this story except for Roxy. This is the first sequel to 'Lust and Lunacy'. By the way, thanks to Azrael-013 for telling me song fics aren't allowed any more! Sorry if this chapter or the next one doesn't make much sense coz of it!

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One month on after all was said and done, Roxanna Richards was sat in her flat. Alone.

The Raw after Wrestlemania had left her with memory's of deceit and sorrow. She laid her scar torn body onto her couch. One hand clutching a bottle of Vodka, the other clutching a cigarette. She inhaled deeply, watching the rings of smoke float from her mouth. Boy, she hadn't done that in ages...

She remembered Kurt's words. They spun around her head like a tornado, wrecking every good memory she had with Randy in sight. Kurt had warned her, Lita had warned her but she was still reluctant to listen.

_Flashback, 3 months ago, Kurt rings Roxy up._

_"Hello?"_

_"Hi Roxy, it's Kurt, Kurt Angle."_

_"How are you doing?"_

_"Good, listen, I thought that you ought to hear something."_

_"Ok...what?"_

_"I was at the Smackdown! tapings and I over heard John Cena on the phone."_

_"Who to?"_

_"Randy."_

_"And your point is..."_

_"They were talking about girls...how they would drop down before them just for sex."_

_"What has this got to do with me?"_

_"He was saying how young you are, and how he could have as many babies as he wants with you coz you are so young and eager."_

_"Kurt, are we on about my Randy? Randy Keith Orton?"_

_"Yes, I'm afraid so. John kept calling him Randy and Legend Killer."_

_"I...I don't believe you."_

_"Roxanna, please, I wouldn't tell you this unless it was true."_

_"I'm sorry, but I'm still not convinced. I'll try talking to him..."_

_"He'll only deny it Roxy..."_

_"Yeah, I guess..." Roxy sighed._

_End of Flashback._

It seemed so unlike Randy, the way he fussed over her, the way he acted around her.

He made her feel...loved by someone other than her Mother. He made her feel special, like she belonged. She would never forget his face after they learned they had lost the baby. It wasn't shock, nor anger, it was just...like he's had a part of his internal fibre which had been ripped out of him.

She had no idea how to feel about him, none at all. She remembered everything about him. Everything from his 'Obsession' cologne, to his Caribbean like ocean eyes to his muscular body which gave her the sense of security she had longed for her whole life.

She took another swig of the now half empty bottle of Vodka. She smirked drunkenly as she did so. Yep, he detested her nights out with her girl pals, the nights where she would more than often not get so wasted she could barely tell where she was. She knew that her alcohol obsession was consuming their relationship whole. Yet, she had no way in which to stop it...

She hadn't truly thought about their former relationship in days. She thought about Randy all day everyday, wondering where he was, what he was doing. After she walked out of the ring on Raw that Monday, she hadn't heard from him once, not ever. It was probably for the best, she had no intention of ever getting back with him, not after what he'd said.

In the depths of her imagination, she could still smell him. Still taste his saliva in her mouth as they French kissed. He was a good kisser, a good sex partner, a good liar. She shuddered to think about that for too long.

He'd destroyed her. Whether it was intentional or not, he'd done it. She couldn't turn back the clock either. Perhaps she would have never gone on a date with him if she had a crystal ball and a wart on the end of her nose.

Her t-shirt barely covered the 3 inch scar across her stomach. She could still remember the pain. The feeling. Everything. Everything about Survivor Series 2004. She wanted to forget, really she did, but how could she?

Tears formed in her eyes as her hands became unsteady. Memory's tear the soul in two, that's what she'd always been taught. She never believed in entirely. Until now.

Braking her thoughts, there was a knock at her door. 'Who the fuck can that be?' she wondered, dragging herself to the door.


	2. Chapter 2

He wheeled himself to the window. Staring down onto the moonlit streets, he sneered, wishing he wasn't confined to a wheel chair. The sea of people darting here and there, carrying on their everyday to day lives as he suffered.

That night was a constant echo in his mind, a reminder of how his former team mates drove a sledge hammer into his back, sending him crashing to the ground.

He looked hazily around the room. He was so high on pain killers, it was a wonder he was still even awake. He'd never felt pain like he had that night, never.

What made everything worse was his beloved ex wasn't there to comfort him. She wasn't there to massage his back. He could just feel her smooth hands caress his metal plated back, crawl up his spine. Her lips tainting his with her sweet breath, helping him forget the pain.

He looked around. No one was there. His friends had visited him but it wasn't enough. Hell, his supposed best mate had gotten him into this mess in the first place. Forcing words into his mind. Thoughts were already there but he daren't confront them.

He could still feel her presence surrounding him, almost suffocating him. Everywhere in his flat, she'd left her mark. They'd rushed their relationship, without a doubt. Nothing could stop them that night of SummerSlam. The night she lost her virginity to him and blossomed into the worlds most mystical flower. The night she got pregnant with their baby girl.

He looked at the clock, taunting him, reminding him how long he'd been sat alone in his flat for.

_Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock_

_Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock_

Ever since he had been released from hospital, he'd felt like the worlds most saddened person. Everything that he'd worked for, failed. His life. His job. His career. His love. It had taken him so long to gain her trust, to let herself fully into him. He realised that he was more than just a Playboy. That is until he met 'her'.

From the moment he saw her, he couldn't stop himself from falling in love with her. He loved everything about her. From her looks of new age Gothic individual, to her lengthily brunette hair, to her divine curves.

Her personality was nothing less than spectacular. She was funny in a cynical, drab way and always spoke her mind. Her expressions were nothing more than precise and her angst perplexing. When ever she lost her abbreviated temper with anyone, it was enough to bring them to their knees in mercy. He feared he would never witness that again.

He acted differently around her, almost like she brought out an unpolished, supplementary side to him. No man, girl nor beast had done that to him. Ever.

He'd often mused about how to get her back. Ever since she'd walked out of the ring on the lethal afternoon of the 4th April, he hadn't once seen her. He didn't even know if she was still in the county. He didn't even know if she knew what state he was in.

What would she want him for now though? He could barely get dressed on his own, let alone anything else. Simple tasks like going to the toilet became a trial to him.

What kind of a life was it now? A year ago, he was travelling in a business he'd adored since he was a youngster, progressing a relationship with the girl he would call 'the one'. Dammit, why had he been such a damn fool?

He loved her.

He imagined being with her for the rest of his life.

Images of them getting married, holding her hand while she delivered their many children, him raising their many children in the world or sport, him receiving his induction into the WWE Hall of Fame were all dismissed with portraits of melancholy and tears the size of rivers.

What was he without wrestling? Women wouldn't want him now, they used to love his wrestling. Besides, the doctors told him that there would only be a slim chance of him ever being able to wrestle again, due to his back being in such an horrendous state.

He looked over at the cabinet of alcohol. He'd never minded a glass or two of whisky but he wasn't a big drinker. He moaned as his hands frantically shuffled the bottles to find any bit of alcohol that hadn't been consumed by Roxanna Richards. Eventually, he came across a full bottle of Brandy.

He wheeled himself over to the table which held his pain killers. He unscrewed the top of the Brandy bottle and tossed back into his mouth the whole set of tablets that shook in his hand. He gulped the Brandy down until there was none left. Dropping the bottle, as it smashed to the ground, he looked around his flat for the last time.

He closed his eyes, as the final tears shot down his once handsome face. Destroyed by those who deceived him. Drunk, dazed and destitute, Randy Keith Orton stayed in his chair and waited in silence for the end of what many call a life to come to the screeching end.


End file.
